


A Tale in Kisses

by happywife416



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Strip Wicked Grace, leandra dies in ferelden, twins in kirkwall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywife416/pseuds/happywife416





	1. Chapter 1

Night in Kirkwall was better and worse than night in Ferelden. Hawke shoved at her brother, he kept blocking the light as she picked the lock. "We shouldn't be here."

"Stop whining, Carver."

"He wouldn't give us the job, why are you breaking into his office?" He paced behind her, making a racket sure to alert every guard in the city.

"Because, brother dear," the lock clicked open, "he is planning an expedition to an untouched thaig. Which means he has maps. If we got there first, we'd be rich. No Templar would look at Bethany again, no more living in Gamlen's house. You can guard this door or you can go home."

She stepped in, crouched low to the floor carefully checking for traps. "And if you get caught?" He called after her.

She sighed and ignored him. She let her thoughts drift as she made her way slowly through the building. A year with Athenril and her smugglers had fine-tuned her thieving ways; the Rose of Ferelden lived on in Kirkwall and she had found her big break. "Gotcha." She smiled as she entered the office. A large desk and a cabinet would take her no time at all. She shoved the chair out of her way and began sifting through the drawers. A creak in the floor was all the warning she had before a fist cracked into her head and a boot leveled her to the floor. Her hands were roughly tied behind her back. "You should at least ask a girl first."

She was hauled roughly to her feet and out the door. Carver had run at the first sign of trouble, at which she gave a silent sigh of relief as the dwarf dragged her out of building and down the street. "Where are we headed? Can I send a card so my family knows where to find my body?"

He grunted. "The Hanged Man."

"Oh. A drink first." She leaned against him with a flutter of her lashes. "This may be a good night yet."

He roughly tossed her into a seat. She called after him. "Free me? No?" The dwarf in front of her was of a different sort then the one that had dragged her in. Rich clothes, a field of chest hair that she wanted to roll around in, and a hefty crossbow that she wasn't opposed to stealing with his virtue as payment for her services. His eyes though, those weren't the kind of eyes you bedded and left in the morning. She shook the thoughts from her head and leaned forward with a grin and a wink. "Now that I'm here, what's your other two wishes?"

"Varric Tethras, at your service. And you are Rose Hawke."

She half bowed in her seat. "The Rose of Ferelden, if you please." She leaned back as much as her bound hands would allow, kicking her feet up on the table, as she slid the knife from her belt and began cutting the rope free. "No hard feelings, I hope? Your brother is an ass and a thaig would make my name here. Nothing personal, just the opportunity of a lifetime."

He waved over the waitress and ordered them two drinks. "You've made a name for yourself."

She rolled her eyes with a disgusted sigh. "With Athenril's smuggling group. That's small fish in the harbor. Coterie?" She freed one hand and slipped the rope from the other before sliding the blade back into her belt. "Carta? Those are ranks a girl can go up and make something of herself. And because of Athenril neither of them will touch me without some serious leg work, which I don't mind but I am not some backwoods waif with no skill." The waitress returned with their drinks and Hawke took it from her with a smile. "Thanks, sweeting." She toasted Varric and settled back in the seat. "Hence why I was looking for employment with your brother. I'm assuming brother, it's hard to tell. He has all that beard and is grumpy and you are neither."

He chuckled. "We don't need more hired help, we need partners. Bartrand's been pulling his beard out trying to fund the expedition on his own. 50 sovereigns and my good word, you would see a third of the profit."

She took another drink. "If I had 50 sovereigns, I wouldn't have been breaking into an office." She tapped her fingers on the mug. "I can smuggle up that coin if you have a rune to keep Templars off an apostate, but I would have to travel. I won't let my sister get thrown into a Circle and my darling brother doesn’t always have the sense the Maker gave a goose."

"I know of some work that’s here."

"We have a deal then, Varric." She stuck out her hand with a grin. "Now is there any chance your help will return my blades? I feel naked. Nice girls like me don't go to bars like this unarmed."

He waved the man over. She checked them out of habits sake, her fingers quick and light before letting them settle on the table. "Where do nice girls like you normally go? The Hanged Man is a dive but it's the dive."

She arched her back, bosom straining against her shirt and smirking when he looked. "You don't go to a bar when you are looking for that kind of fun. Drunk men can't keep it up. Drunk women, however, are always fun and come in groups if you play your cards right."

He laughed. "I know someone you have to meet sometime. But speaking of cards," he pulled a deck from his pocket. "Do you play?"

Her eyes sparkled, a dusty blue that shimmered towards violet framed by dark lashes. "The question is, are you ready to lose?"

Several hands in, a tension had settled in her shoulders and her smile had hardened on its edges. The teasing lilt of her voice was gone and she had let him do the talking as she shifted in her seat, fidgeting with her untouched second drink. "Something wrong?"

She tilted her head towards the corner by the door and then pulled her hair out of its braid with a quick shake. It fell around her like an ebony cloak. "Acquaintances of mine. The kind that promise you fun things in dark alleys that end with your head lower than your ankles." Her gaze flicked over the others at the bar, appraising them quickly. She needed a drunk but not someone so drunk she'd have to carry them. And no one that would take offense to being left hanging with just a kiss. "Any chance this place has a back door or a good size window?" She tossed down a card.

"Didn't they used to work for Athenril?" He checked over his cards, trying not to stare as she tightened the laces on her armor and undid the lacing entirely on her shirt using her hair as a shield between herself and her admirers. She nodded as she began to redo her vambraces. "What's your plan?"

She grinned at him. "Seduce a patron to help celebrate my winnings and sneak out the back. When they realize they've been duped, they'll drink a few rounds and wander out piss drunk. I'll be waiting with a little surprise of my own."

He matched her grin. "What makes you so sure you'll be celebrating instead of commiserating your sorrows?"

She laid down her cards, four songs and a just pulled Angel of Death. "This."

"Well, shit." He chuckled. She scooped the winnings into her pouch with a grin. "Want some help?"

She looked him up and down, chewing her lip. "Are you offering to lurk around in the dark or to lurk around in back?"

He stood offering his hand. "My lady, you wound me. I don't lurk. And I happen to have a suite on the second floor."

The sparkle returned to her eyes. "Now you're speaking my language." She let him pull her to her feet and snagged her daggers, dangling them over her shoulder.

"Maker, what did they feed you in Ferelden?" Her crooked button nose was even with his own. He pulled his gaze from her lips that reminded him of eating too many berries and wondering if they'd taste as sweet.

She sighed. "The same thing they fed the giants they call my siblings. I'm pretty sure they stole my height or beat me on the head growing up. I'm even shorter without the boots."

He tugged on her hand with a grin. "Well come on then, sparrow."

She resisted, a playful smile on her lips. "This sparrow will peck your eyes out and rob you blind."

His fingers traveled up her arm making her shiver as he dropped his voice. "It's your plan unless you just want to charge them."

"Rogues don't just charge, that's a short life." He chuckled. "Besides if I make it look too easy a conquest they will know it's a ruse." She danced past him, heading for the stairs. "Unless you are easy, Varric." She fluttered her lashes and giggled. He scowled and she darted out of reach leading their game of cat and mouse. The mice in the corner perked up from their drinks watching with interest. Always just a breath out of reach, she let him catch her at the stairway. She leaned against the wall, chest heaving with laughter. "Can you make it convincing?" She purred.

His lips were on hers, leaving her heady and breathless. Teeth scraped against lips, bruises for later as they fumbled against each other. He had a hand at her waist pulling her closer, the other tangling in her hair as she wound hers around his neck. They broke apart for a heartbeat, breath harsh against each other's skin. She opened her eyes falling into his. Her voice came out breathless and soft. "Fuck."

He drug his thumb along her jaw, leaning his forehead against hers. "Convincing enough?"

She nodded, catching his lips again tugging his lip between hers a moment. "Suite, yeah? Has a door that locks?"

His laugh rumbled against her skin as his lips traveled down her neck. "What about your plan?"

She slid her hand between them, brazen fingers curling around him. "They will be around tomorrow." She gave a defeated sigh. "Except they are fucking leaving and not drinking. Which room, sweets?" At his confused look, she continued with an exasperated smile. "Window to roof is a lot faster than ground to roof. I prefer to be a sneaky bitch."

He chuckled. "Straight up the stairs. I'll cover you safely from the ground." He grabbed her hand, placing a rough kiss against her knuckles. "Try not to steal everything."

She gave him a cheeky grin. "Oh, I have my sights on a couple things. How attached are you to that crossbow?"

He patted the weapon in question on his back. "Bianca and I cannot be parted. She responds only to my touch."

Hawke called back over her shoulder. "She may find mine to be very persuasive!"

He shook his head as he headed for the front door. "Yeah, Rivaini will love her."

It took Hawke three seconds to cross his rooms, left wide open but with an odd-looking man muttering right outside. She took half a moment to wonder how much of the odd was an act. She bolted through the suite not bothering with taking any of it in, business partners were not marks. She wedged the window open, business partners were not fucks. She shook her head at her own goofy grin of defiance, with a kiss like that she could make an exception.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke was leaned against the bar, chatting up Corff every time he refilled her glass, batting her eyelashes and turning a full pout when he laughed at her expense. "He's immune, you know. That's why he's the best barkeep in Kirkwall." Corff gave him a nod and slid him a glass.

She tipped hers back, leaving a lipstick stain on the rim. "That's the fun tonight."

"You want a challenge?"

She shook her head, laughing. "No. When I want a challenge, I will just strip naked and set myself on fire. Anyone brave enough to kiss me gets a night fulfilling their wildest dreams." She shook her head again, fidgeting with the glass. "No. Tonight I want something safe. Bela is moving on with Kitten. She invited me along but Merrill's not that kind of fuck."

He took a drink. "And what kind is that?"

"The kind that let you wear a mask. She would want flowers in the morning and all that. And she deserves them. Bela understands when fucking is just fucking, and if you need a mask she'll even let you wear a fancy Orlesian one and talk with a funny accent."

He choked and she thumped him on his back. "I didn't want to know that." He wheezed as she grinned at him. Once the coughing ended he asked another question. "What am I?"

She went cross eyed taking her drink but didn't choke. She just stared at him. "I'm not sure I've had enough to drink to answer that." A gleam entered her eyes. "But if you want to buy me another to loosen the lips, you're welcome to try." She drained her glass and stared at him expectantly, daring him.

"Corff? Another round for the lady." She grinned.

Broody showed up for a game of Wicked Grace and she happily joined them. Varric could see a question every time she looked at the elf and wondered how long she could contain herself. She made it three rounds before it blurted out of her. "Have you tried pickpocketing with that trick yet?"

"No." There was an amused chuckle to the word.

She wilted. "What? You could just disappear your hand into their pocket and back out. They would never notice." She pouted. "You are a lucky bastard and you don't even use it."

"Not all of us are magpies that need every shiny thing they see." He tossed down a card.

She rolled her eyes. "Dragon. My hoard is too large for a fucking magpie." She smiled when she pulled her card and then laid them out on the table with the Angel of Death. "I win, give it up to the hoard." Varric pushed his stakes in, his hand was shit but Broody laid out his cards. Hawke groaned and pushed everything to him. "Norah! We need drinks."

By the time Broody left, she was weaving on her feet. She stared owlishly at Varric. "If Bela is at Kitten’s, do you think she'll care if I sleep in her bed without her?"

He laughed, grabbing her arm when she careened to close to the fire. "Do you have a key?"

She scoffed and wiggled free to stand with her hands on her hips. "I am a master thief. I don't need a key."

"I won your lockpicks." He dangled them in front of her, snatching them back when she reached for them.

"You'll give them back, right? They're my lucky set." She pouted, watching him tilt his head in mock hard thought. She let her eyes slide along his jawline, firelight catching the stubble there. She wondered if he knew it blazed gold. She giggled. "Hoard. One more game then." She leaned forward, her shirt dropping off one shoulder. "I win I get my lockpicks."

"And when I win?" He grinned at her brazenness, he had watched her use everything from subtle innocence to things that would put this to shame, like the time her and Rivaini had stripped to the waist for a proper judgement as to who had the biggest. Still, having it turned on him always sent a jolt through his system.

She laughed. "So sure are you?" She spun herself in a circle. "Since Corff is closing the bar and I will have nowhere to go without my lockpicks, the pleasure of my company for the evening." She gave him a wink as she snagged two bottles from the table. "Depending on how strong this is, it may be in some state of undress."

She glared at him accusingly when she examined her cards. "You stacked the deck."

"Such false accusations against my character, milady, you wound me." She snorted and pulled a card and groaned. "Maybe you shouldn't have bet your lucky lockpicks away earlier."

"Void take you, dwarf." She kicked off her boots under the table and sat cross legged in the chair. At his smirk, she shrugged. "My mother is not here to yell at me to be a lady."

"No, I was thinking it must be a really bad hand if you are getting comfortable." She made a rude gesture and he laughed. "Come on, Hawke. Don't give away all your tells in one night."

Her eyes sparkled as a slow grin came across her face. "I want to change the game since I named the terms." He took a drink. "Best of three, at strip grace. Tits versus chest hair."

The deck wasn't stacked before, but he was definitely stacking it now. "Deal."

They had each won a game. He won the first game and she had laughingly thrown her leggings at him with the claim that she was decent enough in just her tunic. She had won the second game and when he handed over his shirt, she had giggled and striped out of her own and slid into it. It was making for a very difficult third game. Her hair had escaped its braid, tumbling around her in a dark mantle. She was currently glaring at her cards, one arm crossed in front of her, fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt and chin in her hand. It did nothing to cover the flush that crept from her cheeks and down her chest. She sighed, breasts swaying as she stretched exposing a tattooed and jeweled navel. He swallowed and took another drink. "Boring a hole through them won't change them."

She rolled her eyes and tossed down a card. "You never know." She half muttered to herself. "Bela needs to teach me some new tricks."

He chuckled, he had a decent hand, which meant she was using her own tricks, but the Angel of Death was still up for grabs. "Up the stakes?"

"Can I bet my dignity?"

"You have some?"

She scowled, ruining it with a giggle. "I have some. I also have a brother I can bet."

"Bartrand is enough of that." He shook his head.

She pouted. "But they would get along so well." She drummed her fingers on the table and smiled. "Shirt’s already mine, so how about an earring? I don't have any like yours."

"Mm, I don't know about that." She fluttered her dark lashes. "Fine but I win, I get a kiss."

"Ooh, I like your stakes." She shuffled her cards.

"And I get my shirt back."

She shook a finger at him. "No. This is very comfortable. You've lost it for good." She brought the hand up to grab the other side of the collar and settled her chin in her hands again, lazily tapping her cards against her face and looking pleased.

"Just." Hawke knew she was attractive, not the sun or the moon beauty that people wrote songs about but the kind that radiated none the less. There was no way she knew what she was doing to him at this moment, he hoped, like his insides were going to tangle themselves into knots and fly away at the same time. "Just don't wear it around Hightown, last thing you want is some old dwarven mother stabbing you if she wanders out of the Merchants Guild."

She laughed as she took a card. "I'll remember that. It's not like I go to Hightown without full armor. Bethany has a black skirt it would go with nicely." That he could picture, on one of the nights that the Hanged Man had music. He was lost in that thought and missed her smirk. "Or I could wear it to bed with nothing else."

He arched a brow. "Well that's not much different than now."

She pouted a moment before grinning. "I could give you a demonstration to prove the difference."

He pulled the Angel of Death. "That would give you an unfair advantage. Unless you'd like to fold?"

Her smile didn't falter. "Nooo." He laid his cards on the table. He watched her mind work, her eyes crinkled at the corners and she sucked in her cheeks. She folded her cards. "You win. Well." She smiled smugly as she crawled up on the table. She stopped a hand space between them. "Is it really a loss when I don't mind?"

An infinity, a heartbeat passed as she chewed her lip teasingly watching his gaze rove across her face. And then she dashed a lightning quick kiss on his nose. She pulled away, her laughter bright. "I don't think so." He pulled her back to him, the abrupt yank catching her off balance and she grabbed his shoulders as their lips crashed together. An appreciative noise left her as he tangled a hand in her hair and she pulled away long enough to swing her legs off the table to straddle his lap. Her hands slid along his shoulders before tugging the tie from his hair.

She was like holding fire and he was willing to burn as his hand tightened over her hip to bring her flush against him. His lips left the tumble of hers to find her neck. She made a small sound and shivered at his attention there and dragging into a moan when he set his teeth against her skin. "Oh, sweet maker, Varric." She arched against him. He smiled against her skin and moved closer to her shoulder, repeating the process. A hiss left her this time that turned into a feral whimper as her nails dug into his back. He kissed the spot, knowing it would be a mark. For all her escapades, she had never sported any, he felt a little smug that she let him leave one. His eyes caught the one on the column of her throat, two. They caught her eyes next and his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were hazy with desire, pupils blown wide, the dark spiral pulling him in as her kiss swollen lips begged for more. The laughter was replaced by something deeper.

"What?" He asked softly.

She smiled, it was gentle as gentle as the fingers that traced his jaw. "You asked what kind of fuck you were. Are you sure you want that answer, storyteller?" He nodded. "I think you would have me without a mask or not at all but you would give the same. So before this continues," she leaned back against the table. "Can we liars handle being that honest?"

"Can you?" He countered.

She chuckled. "There's a lot you don't know, a lot I'm not ready to say, but I can I promise when I'm ready to say them, I will say them." Her smile trembled. "Tonight, it's just me if you will have me."

He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her gently. "You are all I want."


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke was leaned against his shoulder, exhaustion and grief had finally wore her down but not enough that she would let him take watch alone while Rivaini slept.

"You made me leave behind gold, piles of it." She pouted, rebraiding her hair. It had come loose in battle and she had cursed it to the Maker and back until Rivaini offered to just cut it off. She had spent the rest of the day scowling from what he could tell in the low light.

He laughed. "You jingle when you walk as it is. We have a band between you and Rivaini."

"With Carver's clunky armor, we'd pass for an Orlesian orchestra." The humor fled from her face. She sat up, flicking the half-finished braids behind her and stared into the fire. "Void. What the fuck am I going to tell Beth? Oops. I let us down again, sis, and five is down to two." Her body shook and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "No one in my family dies of old age or for themselves. Papa died protecting Beth from Templars. Mother stepped between us a bloody ogre, with no weapons. At least papa was a fucking mage, what was she going to do? Lecture it to death? A guilt trip? You're not living up to my expectations of you, Messere Ogre, go home and be ashamed of yourself." She wiped her eyes. "And Carver came down here looking for something to prove, to escape my shadow. The only shadow to escape from was the one he created for me. Flaming void, I'm a thief, it's not hard to outshine a thief. There's so much he could have done but he was too busy being angry."

"Says the woman who starts bar fights."

She shoved him a little with her shoulder. "That's different. I'm not really angry, not all the way down inside. I just get bored and it's fun." She turned to quickly, crashing their heads together. She rubbed her forehead, giving him a puppy eyed look. "If we find your brother, you get first dibs but I want to kick him at least once. I think I've earned that. So don't kill him with the first shot."

He nodded. "We'll find him."

"If we make it out here." She hugged her arms around herself. "A week below the surface with a full expedition with maps and we are out the ass end of an unexplored thaig.” She shuddered. “I don't eat nug, not after the last time I went looking for lost dwarven treasure."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You said you fought Darkspawn, but this isn't your first time in the Deep Roads?"

She shook her head. "You know the Cadash clan?" He groaned and she grinned. "I ran with Val for a year, craziest woman I have ever known. We went looking for her family's thaig." She shuddered again, her eyes drifting far away.

"Did you find it?"

"No." She continued softly. "Val and I are the only ones that made it out of the deep roads. We stumbled into her parents’ house the day of the funeral that they were declaring us all dead at. We got matching tattoos." She stuck out her ankle, a chunky dwarven band cuffed around it, her boots were beside the fire drying. "She lost a brother but we never made it. The Grey Warden did though. They ended up recovering it, it was past all sorts of shit and we were in the wrong damn place anyway. She smashes nugs with her warhammer and sends me a detailed description each time."

"We won't have much choice on nug soon enough."

She made a face. "I will eat raw lyrium first. Darkspawn. I will eat a boulder before I will eat one of those creepy footed little fuckers again." He laughed and she smiled a little before they fell silent watching the fire.

After a long while she spoke again, so quiet he almost missed her words. "I don't want to die down here. I hate the cold and the unending dark. Val and I were lost for a month. We ended up climbing out through a cave in." She was so fragile, curled around herself. "It crashed closed behind us, and I stumbled. I would have fallen back in if she hadn't grabbed me. I still have nightmares about it, dying alone in the dark. I scream just so the Darkspawn find me. But then I die alone in the dark with creepy noises. It's not an improvement."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her back against his chest. "I won't let that happen, Hawke." She let go of a held breath and relaxed against him. "And before you say it, you didn't let that happen to Carver."

She snorted. "No. That spot was surprisingly well lit and I stabbed him. Technicalities and all." She wiggled, tossing a rock that had been digging into her hip into the fire before leaning her head back against his shoulder and closing her eyes. He watched her breathe, she did that the way she did everything else, tossing her whole self into it. "You are comfortable, you know. No complaining if I fall asleep and I have to warn you, I kick and snore."

He chuckled, the rumble of it against her back tickled. "I'm not surprised you can't be charming and behave even in your sleep."

"I am perfectly charming." She scoffed. "The word you want is agreeable. If I'm agreeable, it's a lie and I'm probably going to do something nasty."

"I'll keep that in mind. Get some sleep, menace."

Her eyes shot open. "I have nickname?"

He smirked. "For a while."

"Why menace?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Because you are one, a plague of them."

She chuckled. "True." She yawned. "Don't let me sleep too long?"

"I won't. Rivaini won't let us live it down if she sees this."

"True. Or she will turn permanently green with envy." Her lashes fluttered shut again and her breathing quickly became slow and even, a soft smile on her face.

He laid a gentle kiss on her brow. "Sleep well, sweetheart."


	4. Chapter 4

There was a knock on his door. They had dragged themselves into Kirkwall late in the evening, he wasn't ready to see anyone but he opened it anyway. Hawke stood there, still in her Darkspawn spattered armor with two bottles in each hand. Rage and grief stormed in her blue eyes. He opened the door wider and she stepped in. "Sunshine taking it hard?"

She dropped the bottles on to his table and fell in to a chair, her head falling on to her hands. He could hear the creak of her elbows against the wood. She was silent for so long before her voice finally croaked out. "Bethany's dead too."

The floor fell out from under him. "What?"

Her laugh was harsh as it fell from her lips. "That's what I said when Gamlen told me. Then I knocked him against a wall." She took a long drink. "Someone sold her out, Templars came to arrest her and she fought back instead of going quietly to the Gallows. She took a couple of the bastards with her and burned half of that greasy bastard's house down." She finally looked at him, eyes red and swollen. "I went to the Gallows, Varric. I didn't believe him, I hoped she was there. One of them laughed about one less apostate on the street, one less dog lord. And I just walked out."

"Even you can't take the whole Gallows on, Hawke." She snorted. "I wish I had been there to see you beat on uncle greasy though. I bet it was beautiful."

She shook her head, the half-smile fading quickly. "I should have been here." The rage clouded her eyes again, tears falling from her lashes. "I couldn't save Carver. I wasn't here to protect Bethany. Some fucking sister I am." She threw herself to her feet, the table rocking with the force, and began to pace.

"You can't blame yourself. The Darkspawn and the Templars are at fault, not you." She glared at him a moment and he felt a chill slide down his spine. He had done his research about the Rose of Ferelden, a master thief turned refugee. There had been rumors that she had done more than steal, he never looked into them. The predatory stare on her face now confirmed those rumors and she slid into the gait he watched in battle time and time again. She seduced her prey. He swallowed, knowing her victim was deep within her flesh. "You've tried your damnedest."

"At nothing that matters." She met the far wall and came back his way. It started at her feet and rolled up her body, a swagger that spoke of dark promises. She crossed an arm across her body, fingers grappling her elbow with bruising force. "Never anything that matters. Stealing is a high, battle too. Money kept the family comfortable. Made me famous. I ate that up. But it's meaningless with no one to share it. There is no family anymore. It's just me, still empty and broken. Still worthless. Murderer. Thief. Failure." She wandered over to the table and tipped back a bottle, emptying it before she came up for air. "I'll go. I'm sorry I dropped this on you, Varric." She wiped her tears. "Keep the other three. I won't need them tonight where I'm going."

He meant ask where she was going but he knew. Instead it came out wrong. "Stay." She stared at him, the owlish blink he knew he would not be able to blame on the alcohol in the morning. "Stay tonight. You're not alone, Hawke. You've got me."

A sound left her, torn between a sob and a sigh. "Varric." He opened his mouth and she held up one finger. "I don't want to stay if you are offering out of pity." She flinched at the look on his face, the rest of her words fell out of her. "The last time I stayed with anyone I cared about when they asked, she died. I would prefer to run away." She gave a shaky laugh. "I offered that too but we didn't get a chance." Her hair fell forward obscuring her face.

He stepped forward, brushing it out of her face. Maker’s breath, after their night together, everything else, the Deep Roads, he realized he was falling for her. It was the most terrifying thing in the world but like coming home. "I'm used to death threats; it comes with the merchants’ guild." She was chewing her lip a hint of a smile he wanted to kiss into bloom, it should feel wrong. She had just lost the rest of her family. But he was a jealous man, he would rather have her in his arms then down at the blooming rose or downstairs with a stranger to drown her sorrows. He would rather chance her anger, beg for forgiveness later then let her go now.

She curled her fingers against his jaw, her body relaxing with every breath getting steadier. "Wicked Grace? And one of your stories then?" She gave a tilt of her head and glimmer came into her eyes. "I might as well fleece you since you won't let me have my mask." He knew then he wouldn’t have to ask for it.

She laughed at all the right moments and kept him on his toes, the winnings passing back and forth between them well into the night. Her cheeks were red with wine and she was holding herself up on the table, he wasn't much better as he dealt the next hand. "Raise the stakes?"

She giggled, almost making him take back his plan. "To what? Clothes? I'm not sure I can figure out how mine work. And my armor is, somewhere."

"Advanced copies." A roguish gleam entered her eyes, the only she liked better than a good read was a good steal. "Against the story of the girl who wouldn't run away with you."

He was certain she could hear his heart beat in the silence of the room, she was an assassin after all. He missed the spark in her eyes, the dead water in them had words to take back the deal in his mouth when she spoke. "You have a story you'll never tell, Varric, and I have a song I will never sing." She flashed him an easy grin that didn't meet her eyes. "But I've had all the luck tonight, so those advanced copies are as good as mine."

He let her win, tossing the best hand he had ever seen. She laughingly accepted his defeat and challenged him to a drinking game. He didn't let her win that, she won fair and square. The world tilted as he stood up and she grabbed him. Even through the liqueur she smelled so good, like apple flowers and vanilla with just a little sea. She laughed. "It must be all that time I spend on the coast."

"Well, shit." He wobbled against her.

"A dwarf who can't hold his drink. Now this is the story of the age." She draped his arm over her shoulder, her small frame always surprised people with its strength. "Let's get you to bed."

It was a weaving shuffle but she managed to steer him to it and he dropped heavily on to the blankets. He glared at his boots. She sighed and bent to help him, which turned into her just doing it because he could see right down her shirt, bless the maker and that perfect sight. She pushed him back gently, her blue eyes warm with gentleness. "Get some rest, storyteller, and I'll see you in the morning."

He grabbed her hand as she turned to leave. "Stay." He meant to add please, he didn't mean to beg. "Another story?" She shook her head, but she was smiling and kicked off her boots before climbing into bed beside him. He started a tale and stopped when she started to laugh, deep snorts behind her hands. He leaned over to peer into her face. "What?"

"You are too gone to spin a decent tale." She was still chuckling as she pulled him half into her lap, forcing his shoulders down so his head was pillowed against her thighs. It was nice, peaceful even, as she ran her fingers lazily through his hair. "I could sing? Papa taught me every song he knew. I've never forgotten them." Her eyes misted and he knew it was true. Barely audible hums as they walked, drumming her fingers against a surface while she waited for anything, dancing with Rivaini, and half heard notes cut short if you caught her unaware and alone.

"You could sing." He said slowly.

She started with an old Ferelden lullaby about a mabari, she changed the name to Hero and when he pointed it out she shushed him with a halfhearted slap on the chest and a smile. She then picked a free marsher song about a woman with more suitors then sense, she sang each suitor with a different voice and the woman with such in ridiculous high nasally tone he was crying with his laughter by the end. The next one was in Orlesian, it was soft and gentle as it faded in and out of the room. As the final note ended he asked her. "What's that one about?"

Instead of an answer, she sang it in trade tongue.

 "My young love said to me,

My mother won't mind

And my father won't slight you

For your lack of kind.

She stepped away from me

And this she did say,

"It will not be long love

Till our wedding day".

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the fair

And fondly I watched her move here

And move there.

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake,

As the swan in the evening

Moved over the lake.

Last night she came to me,

My young love came in.

So softly she entered,

That her feet made no din.

And she came close beside me

And this she did say,

"It will not be long love

Till our wedding day"."

He felt a knot in his chest. "I bet that was one of his most popular songs."

She nodded, leaning her head back against the bed. "And my mother's favorite. I think it was Ferelden originally. It's beautiful in Orlesian though."

"Everyone loves a tragedy." They both chuckled. His eyes were heavy following the line of her throat. She started singing again, lullabies and other soft songs and his eyes fell shut as her fingers still played in his hair.

Hawke fell silent after a while, he thought she had fallen asleep her breathing was so even. It was all he could do to not jump when she started to speak. "It was Anna's favorite too, that song. She had a voice like gravel in a glass but she sang it every day." A soft sigh left her, a stutter on the end of it. "I know you let me win, storyteller. So I guess telling you while you're asleep evens it out. I met her when I was forced into the Army. She was Carver's captain; it was supposed to be temporary. Just woo her long enough to make sure my brother was safe. But she." Her breath caught again, wiping a tear from her face. "Maker, I'm glad you're asleep. There's a reason I don't talk about this. She liked books and songs. She didn't just see a thief; she saw the good I tried to do too. She was flying when all I had ever been able to do as crawl." Both her hands were in his hair now, he felt the slightest of tugs. "I asked her to marry me. The morning the Darkspawn attacked we were packing our bags to run away to Kirkwall, abandoning our posts, our families. We were going to leave it all behind and then the horns sounded. I didn't see her again until I went to find Carver and her to get out of there. And I was too late. She died in my arms."

She was quiet a long time again. "You look good with my braids, storyteller, even if your hair is a little too short." She leaned forehead pressing a soft kiss against his forehead. "Part of me wishes you were awake for that, so you could understand. I love you." His heart seized but she kept going before he could break his lie. "But I can't let anyone else love death. I can't, I can't lose anyone else. My parents, Carver, Bethany. Anna." Tears were running down her face, and scattering across his skin. "I'm bad luck, you see. I get lucky over and over at the expense of everyone else. You are a price I'm unwilling to pay. I won't pay it." She traced a finger down the side of his face and he leaned in to it. She didn't gasp, not like they would in one of his books, but she smiled as she settled more comfortably against the headboard.

She was gone in the morning, her winnings still piled on the table with a note. _Seemed only fair since I get the books._


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke had managed to stay on her feet long enough to get out of the Keep, long enough to convince even Blondie that the blood she was covered in wasn't her own. Then she had collapsed at the top of the stairs and the only thing that had kept her from careening down the whole flight and breaking her neck was Rivaini’s quick feet. Blondie had healed her up as much as he could but Varric settled in a chair by her bed with a book to watch over her. 

"That's the first time I've had a head thrown at me." Her voice was soft and her smile warm. 

Varric grinned. "Really? I thought that happened all the time in Ferelden."

She laughed, wincing as pain lacerated her torso. "Maker, don't make me laugh." She giggled again. "Ow."

"Blondie left you something for that." He pushed himself from the chair and tried not to fidget as her eyes followed him. Whatever she was thinking was hidden behind those stormy eyes. He handed her the mug. "Drink all of it."

She took a ginger sip and her face molted as she stared at the liquid and then at him accusingly. "This tastes like shit."

"That means it's good for you." She scowled up at him but tipped it back and finished it. She handed it back, looking a little green, and then settled herself against the pillows more comfortably. He set the mug on her desk before retaking his seat. She squirmed under his gaze as he leaned against his knees with his chin resting on his knuckles. "When were you going to tell one of us you were mage?"

She sighed with the weight of decades long secret. "Never if I could help it." She shrugged and avoided looking at him. "It's not exactly something I want everyone knowing. The twins knew but otherwise I've worked very hard on more useful skills." 

"Liar." She gave him an easy grin. "Daisy was so shocked you could channel lightning through your daggers, she wanted to discuss it with Blondie. They are both impressed."

She shrugged again, chewing her lip and still smiling. "It is more useful that way. It's only a lie if you were wanting technicalities." She started braiding her loose curls, one of her few nervous habits he had discovered. He watched her deft fingers, the surety in them mesmerizing as her pale skin flashed in amid her dark hair. Her lower lip stuck out unconvincingly. "Nobody questions runes."

He chuckled. "Runes don't channel that much power, menace."

"Neither do I normally." She laughed only wincing a little this time. "Does everyone in Kirkwall know the new champion plays with magic now?"

He shook his head. "No, I told her Daisy had worked some spells to help you in the duel." She nodded thoughtfully. "You have enough trouble with your apostate friends without becoming one yourself."

"Maleficar." She said softly. "Not just any apostate." Her smile was a little sick while he blinked at her. "You find out things you aren't supposed to know all the time. How much do you know about the Rose of Ferelden?"

He sat back in the chair. "A thief with a knack for getting herself out of trouble as quickly as she gets in to it. You were selective on your targets, never stealing from those who couldn't afford it and had a tendency to help people who needed it." She arched an eyebrow and smoothly crossed her arms as she stared him down. He sighed. "I heard about another line of work and decided I didn't want to know what would push a 15 year old girl into assassinating people."

She fidgeted with the blanket with a distracted nod. Her voice was soft as she started. "I was much younger the first time I killed someone."

"Andraste’s flaming knickers, why?" He leaned forward to take her hand and she took it with a small smile. 

"My mother tried to sell me. He claimed he was a Crow but I doubt that still. Offered her 20 sovereigns." 

"And she considered it." She nodded as his fingers tightened around hers. "How old were you?"

"12." She scrubbed at her eyes. "She added murderer to my list of bad traits." She gave a little shrug. "I was good at it, almost as good as I was at thieving. And the blood magic? It works very well with both lines of work. Just a little sacrifice and it made sure I came home in one piece even if no one wanted me there. But it was a risk I tried to avoid, you never know when you'll come up against someone with Templar training and that's a nasty surprise. It's always better to rely on yourself." She gave herself a shake and grinned at him. "At least until I came here. Our little gang of troublemakers I trust with my life."

He matched her grin. "I dare you to tell Aveline she's a troublemaker."

"Oh no." She giggled. 

A clock chimed in the house and Varric stood and stretched. "Bodhain set me up a guest room when I agreed to stay tonight in case you need anything."

Her eyebrow formed a perfect dark arch. "What? Bodhain can't be trusted?" 

He flushed in the half light of her room. "That's not what l."

Hawke Patted bed next to her. "There's room for two." He stared at her and her smile wavered. "What else are we going to do about us? I’ve been an idiot long enough."

"We're the best liars in Kirkwall." He kicked off his boots and settled in beside her with his book. "We could think of something."

She scooted until her head was against his shoulder. "For ourselves or everyone else?" He kissed her hair and opened the book. Her finger quickly interjected itself on the page. "This is new."

"You did win advance copies off me." She cooed. "Want me to start at the beginning?" She nodded and settled in more comfortably as he began to read. 

Varric thought he had lost her to sleep a couple times but when he closed the book she gave a content sigh before a soft chuckle escaped her. "Aveline is going to kill you."

"Maybe." He stared down at their entwined fingers. "Other things might do that first."

She hummed. "A plague of menace?" 

"What was that he called you, a baslit?"

"Basalit-an, an outsider worthy of respect. It's a rarely given title." She continued. "Did you know there is only one letter difference between their words for hope and illusion? Hissera and hissra, respectively. It says a lot about their culture I think." 

He chuckled. "How much qunlat do you know?"

He could feel the dimple of her smile against his shoulder. "Enough to know when they say something rude and to respond in kind. I have knack for languages."

"Handy skill for a thief." She yawned. "Get some rest, Hawke." 

She wrapped an arm around him and snuggled into his side. "No escaping." She leaned up her nose brushing against his. "I mean it. I'll cry."

"You know how I get when humans get emotional." He tucked a curl behind her ear. 

Her eyes sparkled. "Then don't run off."

"You're the one who ran off last time." She snorted. He pulled her in for a kiss, savoring the softness of her lips against his. Three years too long between them. He released her far sooner then he wanted to and tucked her back in against him. 

"You're stuck with me now, storyteller." 

"I love you, stop threatening me." Her laugh filled the room and his chest with warmth and light. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hawke had disappeared into the Free Marshes, and then farther afield. There were hints in the letters signed with her name and a kiss. He explained to the Seeker she signed them all that way but he didn't think she bought it, not for second. Not when he smiled a little too fondly tracing the curve of her name or when he'd start to worry when one wouldn't appear in a timely manner. 

After the Conclave, there was less worry about the contents of their exchanges but some things they never discussed, the future or what they were to each other. With all the time apart, it scratched at his chest that he couldn't reach out his hand and feel hers. He still missed her next to him at night. He missed telling her he loved her. 

He wrote the letter telling her about Corypheus with a lighter heart. _The Inquisition needs a Champion, Hawke. (I need you, Hawke.) Don't take too long getting to Skyhold and bring the mabari. I need him to chew on some Guild letters. All this shit is weird (and its even weirder without you)._ He didn't seal it with a kiss of his own but he could think of kissing her again until the day she arrived. 


	7. Chapter 7

The Champion of Kirkwall rode into Skyhold, the blood red heraldry blazing across her black armor, perched atop a black Ferelden forder named Nightmare and her mabari warhound Hero trotting beside them. It was raining; a cold, desolate and grey drizzle that had followed her from the Storm Coast and sank into her Maker forsaken bones. The guard hailed her. "Name and business!"

 She tossed back her hood, sending fat drops of rain behind her and pushing her drenched hair back from her face until it tangled in Hawke's Key where it was nestled between her daggers against her back. "Rose Fucking Hawke and I was summoned to this forsaken mountain."

 The guard blinked. "The Champion?"

 "Yes." He blinked again and opened and closed his mouth. "Maker, boy, I am freezing to death. Where the void is Varric Tethras and where is your damned stables?"

 He snapped to attention, his cheeks flushing. "This way, Lady Hawke." She turned nightmare over to the stable hands with reassuring pats and a promise of a visit involving apples. They offered to make room for Hero in her stall and she drawly informed them they were welcome to try and make him over his snarling and gnashing of teeth. Someone else then led her up through the kitchen, which made her mouth water but the sharp eyed cook kept her fingers in her pockets, and up to Varric's door. There she stood with her hand raised and not touching it.

 Three years stood between her hand and the door. Three years of letters and worry, of long lonely, aching nights. Of crying herself to sleep when the road got too lonely and all she wanted was a hot bath, a good book, and him. Three years that made their little life in Kirkwall feel like a fever dream. Her knuckles brushed the bare wood as her teeth snagged her lower lip but the door swung inward before she made a sound and he walked out of it, in to her. "Oof." She was sprawled on her backside looking up into those eyes that had haunted her sleep. She gave him a wobbly grin. "Storyteller, it's rude to invite a girl to your castle and then knock her on her ass."

 "Hawke!" He yanked her to her feet, ignoring Hero trying to stick his massive head between them and pulled her into his arms. It was a kiss that lit every nerve on fire and burned away every night apart as it raced down her spine and melted her against him. Home.

 She rested her forehead against his, her voice cracking along the edges. "Varric." She kissed him this time, slowly and savoring every tug of his stubble against her skin. She wound her fingers into his hair as his danced across her back, bumping against her weapons before dipping beneath the waist of her armor and leggings, a fiery brand against her icy skin. She shivered, smiling against his lips before nipping at them. "We are standing in a hallway."

 His laugh rumbled deep in his chest. "My menace is worried the servants are going to tell stories?"

 “Someone is always telling stories about me.” She teased, leaning her forehead against his. “Maker, I have missed you.”

 He tugged her into his room and shut the door with a grin. “I’m not telling them you are here yet.” Her laughter echoed off the stone walls, banishing the gloom that had hung there and bringing him home in her arms.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Hawke’s eyes were hollow. Adamant had drained them all, but when the Inquisitor had said it was her or Stroud that should stay to cover their backs, something had broken inside her. They both shared blame for the disaster there, but leaving someone to face that fate, that horrible death? It was not often she let fear get the better of her, she was one to swallow it down and move forward. Stroud had looked at her and charged the damn thing. Varric’s boots came into view as she sat in the sand. “No one should have been left, Varric. What the fucking void was she thinking?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He settled beside her, pulling her close. “He was a good man.”

She nodded. “And the Inquisitor is an idiot.” She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to Weisshaupt. Someone has to tell them what the void is going on down here. Why nearly all the Ferelden Wardens are dead, the rest conscripted into the Inquisition. That Adamant has fallen.”

“Nightingale could do it. She’s close to the Hero of Ferelden.”

“I don’t want to go either.” She brushed a kiss against his cheek. “But I don’t trust anything with this bunch. Not anymore. You don’t sacrifice your people, you don’t leave monsters at your back. We could have done it. Opened a fucking rift and brought in more soldiers, anything. Not tossed in a human sacrifice and called it a day.” She went up on her knees before him, cradling his face in her hands. “I swear, I will come back to you in one piece. But I want you to make the same promise to me.” A tear trailed down her cheek.

“I swear.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “I will always come back to you.”


	9. Chapter 9

He hadn't seen Hawke since she had left for Weisshaupt. He knew she shouldered the blame for Stroud staying in the Fade, there would be no talking her out of taking that guilt. He could imagine her laugh and dramatic sigh. "Another good man gone, Varric." It was the sorrow in her eyes before she would take the drink that would always call her out. The end of world was her fault, "I let him out, Varric. The option was letting us starve to death in that prison or going Darkspawn, so that might be worth destroying the world."

Her letters had come regularly enough at first, by handful sometimes if she traveled a way between outposts. Her last one had told him he shouldn't expect another but he still sifted through them looking for her tidy scrawl first.

_This is the last decent outpost according to the map. With any luck, I’ll jump a ship and be home in a month. Maybe two. There's a lot of snow here. Hero has decided he needs to sleep on me to keep me from freezing to death on the road. I don't want to break it to him that I'm a lot warmer now then I was as a kid. I don't want to hurt his feelings, mabari are smart like that. He keeps trying to make me play diamondback and then complains that I'm not you. He's not the only one who complains._

That had been early spring. Summer had passed with still no word, not even from his contacts. Weisshaupt was still standing as far anyone knew. Kirkwall turned to fall and then snow blanketed the city one evening when he was down at the Hanged Man. Things had changed everywhere else but at least here he could still order a drink and Norah would mess it up. He was starting to think it was on purpose. Aveline and Donnic had been a pleasure to see but now he was just nursing one drink too many and brooding at the fire. He laughed to himself. The Hanged Man might be the same, but it wasn't the same without the whole gang, and it certainly wasn't the same without her. He grabbed his duster and trudged back up to Hightown.

His head was clear by the time he got to his rooms. All the maker forsaken stairs, he had become a lightweight in his old age for the job, and had learned count on his drinks. He got the key in the lock and gave it half a thought when it just opened instead of unlocking. He was too busy staring at the figure in his room. Thinner, armor scratched and dented, but there she was leaned against his desk like a wish. She grinned. "You're supposed to knock. What if I was naked?"

He felt the ground back under him again and grinned back. "It's my room, menace." She chuckled. "When did you get here?"

She tugged and twisted her braid in her fingers, a motion he became hypnotized with. "This afternoon? I wanted a bath more than anything so I went home, discovered I lost my key in the Anderfels. So, I went to Gamlen's."

He cringed. "I wrote you about that."

"The current tenants were far more shocked to see me then I was to find out he had finally been done in by his poor taste in bets." She shrugged. "Then I went to Daisy's who fussed over me the entire time. When I left, I did the fussing but now she's all grown up into a mother hen. None of her clothes fit me though, as comical as it was watching her try. I may be sick of the armor but I'm not that desperate yet." She chewed her lip a moment before laughing. "I was planning on making my first visit to the viscount but Bran would have turned me away the mess I was. I am after all the Champion of Kirkwall, not that it needs me."

He shook his head. "Do you know how many times a day I think Hawke would have this done before it was out of my mouth? The Viscount still needs you."

She flicked her braid behind her, her eyes boring into the ceiling. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to stay then to make the old girl happy."

The floor moved again, back into the deep roads and he felt far to sober to deal with this. "You weren't staying."

She looked at him now, her eyebrows perfect arches above her blue eyes. "Do we have to have this conversation? After all this time, Varric?" Her voice softened. "You are home. I don't want Kirkwall to need me. I want you to. Every thieving piece."

He let go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "You think Bran is bad now, he's going to be insufferable if you marry me."

"I think I can handle him." She snorted, reaching up to undo a buckle from her armor and letting it fall from her shoulders. She tossed it into a chair as he crossed the room, he hadn't noticed before that she wasn't wearing gloves as her daggers clattered on to the desk behind her.

Her hands had new scars across the purple knuckles, another on her chin. He ran his fingers over them. "Are you saying yes?"

A wicked gleam entered her eyes. "I could request an official proposal, I am after all nobility. A fancy dress for the occasion, wine, something Orlesian that I will bitch about later." At the look on his face she groaned. "Don't you dare do any of that."

He chuckled pining her hips against the desk with his. "It would be worth it to see you in a dress."

Her smile was soft as she shook her head but then she kissed him, pulling his tie from his hair and then tangling her hands it. She tasted sweet, with a faint bite of healing tonic that he'd ask about later. The under tunic she wore beneath her armor was thin, he felt the rough patches where she had put it back together but the feel of her back in his arms. She pulled away a moment, her breathing hard. "I'm saying yes. Although why I need to answer that question after walking across half of Thedas to come back to you." He silenced her with another kiss, the story could wait.


End file.
